There has been a lot of loss from addiction lately. Young, beautiful souls that will never grow old. I see how hard it is to get and stay clean and I am once again so very grateful to those I love who fight the battle and live to see another day. Please keep fighting the good fight and telling your stories.
I wrote this thank you note almost 3 years ago. Something I had prayed about for so many years had come true. During this sad time I am trying to focus on hope and recovery and how beautiful it can be.
Dear Friends,
We are celebrating a big anniversary today. Dad has been sober for 1 year. He will probably not acknowledge it…will act like it is no big deal but we all know what a big deal it is. And we owe so much gratitude to all of you. For listening and listening and listening. For offering advice. For not offering advice :). For showing up when we needed you.
He arrived with so much anger and resentment and hate inside and out. He spent his days and nights in a dark room listening to books on tape. He could not be around people and people did not want to be around him. Every single thing that came out of his mouth was negative-EVERYTHING. There is a line from a song in the movie Crazy Heart called The Weary Kind…"Whiskey has been a thorn in your side that doesn't forgive…a highway that costs your heart inside." My Dad was so very weary. The right medication, some love and some tough love have all helped in this journey.
It did not happen overnight but with little moments that made you go hmmm. One of the kids commented that they heard him whistling one day. Another time we were all in the kitchen and he came in and touched Dave on the shoulder to welcome him home from a trip. Every time something like that would happen it would be like somebody pressed pause and we would all stop what we were doing and just stare at each other. On his way out to the deck he would pause in the family room and ask the score of the baseball game. After we exhausted all of the CDs at the local library he let me start to download books onto the iPad and he figured out how to press the play button and move from one book to another. He turned a TV on after at least 5+ years and now every night you can find him watching Jeopardy at 7:30. I like to think my Grandmother had something to do with that part of things :) We have often likened his basement bedroom to when the astronauts return from space. It was his decompression chamber. He had to re-acclimate to life.
In the end it was not any one thing that made the difference. It was all the little things. All the little parts of life that we take for granted. Having a schedule. Knowing that somebody is going to put a meal on the table at night and people are going to sit in their same seats. Grace before dinner. Watching a teenage boy let his mom hug him. A brother and sister negotiating over cleaning the kitchen and walking the dog. A bonfire. A Thanksgiving table with prayers and laughter and even disbelief when half the people rush through dinner to get back to the football game. The smell of a real Christmas tree.
But most of all it was the power of prayer and the grace of God. We do not know what tomorrow holds…for any of us, but just for today we are truly thankful.
Peace and lots of love.
